Tattoo
by Fallen Leafs
Summary: With cruelty that Kyle didn't know he had, he ignored the quietly sobbing man at his feet, wondering if it would be worth the effort to go make himself something alcoholic. But why do anything when he has a remorseful Kenny groveling at his feet? Stylenny


_I wrote this at school while wasting time in gym. It's kinda silly, but very sweet and hopefully funny. I'm so sorry about the reference to Ancient Egypt._

_Again, this is dedicated to NekoKnight because it's her last day at school tomorrow._

**Tattoo**

_Turn off the Sun!_ Kyle mentally begged. His head was pounding, his eyes were throbbing, and his shoulder was tingling, and _jeez_, it was hot. With a vague panic at the thought of over-heating, Kyle tried to sit up...

And failed miserably.

However, he became aware of a sharp, piercing pain in his ass and lower back. With a sharp gasp, the redhead frantically tried to remember last night, and drew up blank. The last thing he remembered was Stan and Kenny taking him out to celebrate his twenty-first birthday, the youngest in the trio.

Debating whether or not he should just go back to sleep for a while, Kyle cracked his eyes open and screamed.

OoO

Kenny jolted awake at the sound of Kyle's scream, sitting up and noting dazedly that the redhead was in bed with him and naked. He blinked at the hyperventilating Jew who was curling into his stomach and realized with a lazy grin that Stan was also trying to get his bearings, at least shirtless, in the very same Vegas hotel bed.

"Bitch yes." Kenny muttered upon noting his equally clothes-less state, drawing both boys' attention. "Fucked 'em both."

Stan shook his head slightly, grimacing at the pain this caused, and mumbled back, still half-asleep, "You sure? I'm not sore. Are you?"

With a mental once-over of his injuries, Kenny shook his head. "Not sex-sore. Maybe we should ask Kyle. Kyle? ...Are you having a panic attack?"

Kyle stared at them with dear-caught-in-the-headlights eyes. With a whimper, he got up, limping badly and hissing in pain, taking a sheet with him. Wrapping it around his chest and grasping the material to hold it in place, Kyle hurried out if the room, moaning in distress, "Need more beer."

Stan and Kenny looked to each other, grins spreading across their faces. Kenny cheered silently and Stan smirked contentedly. Standing, they tossed each other the appropriate articles of clothing.

On their way out of the room to find Kyle, the couple fist-bumped in victory.

OoO

Kyle was feeling much more subdued after two cups of a hardy vodka/coffee mixture and getting dressed, though he still felt... Messy. He was sure he would figure it out when he was totally awake, sober, and without a hangover. And far away from the couple he was trying very hard to convince himself he did _not_ sleep with last night. This proved difficult when said couple decided to simultaneously kiss him on the cheek from behind, making him shriek and spill a little vodka/coffee on his lap.

Hissing at the slight burn, Kyle watched the pair sit on the couch across from him, grinning like the proverbial cat who ate the canary and holding hands.

"So," Kenny asked at length, "I really must know. Did we use a condom?"

Stan snorted at the growing horror on Kyle's face. The redhead tossed back the rest of his mixture and stood, squirming a bit. Finally, his eyes widened and he screeched, running out of the room screaming, "Ew! Ew! Ew! _Ew!_"

OoO

Forty-five minutes and a boiling hot shower later, Kyle could be found looking rather forlorn, slumped at the tiny kitchen table while his two best friends in the world bustled about, apparently making him a calming tea. Kyle muttered something about more alcohol and the trio fell silent, Stan and Kenny exchanging victorious smirk every now and then.

Setting the tea down in front of the stunned redhead and kissing him lightly on the forehead, Stan simpered sweetly, "How are you feeling, sweetie?"

"Well," his voice was cracking and uneven. "I can't remember anything that happened last night, and I'm pretty damn sure I was drugged. I have a terrible hangover, and woke up naked in my best friends' bed. I just got back from cleaning two other boys' cum and my own blood out of my ass. How the fuck do you think I feel?"

Kenny looked him very seriously in the eye. "So, I guess you still haven't noticed the tattoos on your shoulders?"

Kyle stiffened, expression gone completely blank. "... What are they of?" he asked tightly, remembering his father's skull tattoo with his own name below the marking. Expecting the worst, he braced himself.

"**S** on one shoulder, **K** on the other, Ky."

The redhead deflated, and he eyed his tea wearily. "Is there alcohol in this?"

After a pause, Stan nodded. Kyle promptly downed it.

"I hate you." He mumbled conversationally. Stan winced. "You're rapists."

Kenny sputtered, slamming his hands on the table with a bemused glare. "How are we _rapists_?" he demanded in disbelief and no small amount of anger. Kyle glared at him weakly and pointed out, "It's obvious that you planned this. I'm not sure if it was you who drugged me, though. So, in essence, you waited until I was too inebriated to think straight and fucked me so hard I bled."

Stan, always the one with a weak stomach to match his super-best-friend's bad health, clasped a hand over his mouth and dashed out of the room. Kenny paled, sitting heavily across the table from the apathetic redhead his eyes were fixated on. Slowly, the blond placed his head and his hands and whispered, "I raped my best friend. I raped my boyfriend's Super-Best-Friend. Scratch that. I _raped_ a perfectly innocent human being."

Pity welled in said rape-victim's chest but he squashed it down. He just had to clean this man's cum out of his ass. Kenny could deal with a little self-loathing.

"We... We-we just wanted..." Kenny tried desperately to explain. Kyle cut in monotonously. "You wanted me to join your relationship. After I already said no. So you got me dead-drunk and marked me in two of the most humiliating ways I can think of... You tattooed your initials on my shoulders and came inside of me. Without my goddamn consent, Kenneth."

The blond was openly crying by the end of his little rant, and Kyle inwardly smiled. Kenny didn't cry unless he was thoroughly ashamed of everything he stood for. Gasping apologies, Kenny actually sank to his knees at Kyle's feet.

With a cruelty that Kyle didn't know he possessed, he ignored the quietly sobbing man at his feet, wondering if it would be worth the effort to get up and make himself something else alcoholic. But, why do anything when he has a remorseful Kenny groveling at his feet?

"Kenny, dear?" He simpered, pouting at the blond persuasively. The blond's tear-filled blue eyes were immediately on him. "Fetch me something alcoholic."

Obediently, Kenny stood, busying himself with fixing something to numb the already-buzzed redhead's mind. Absently, Kyle danced dexterous fingers over the tender skin of the tattoo on his left shoulder, tracing the **K** there absently. Assuring himself Kenny wasn't watching, he smiled fondly, even as he shifted uncomfortably, terribly sore.

Placing the honestly-not-all-that-alcoholic cup of tea in front of the quiet redhead, Kenny retook his place at his feet, looking like a thoroughly scolded puppy as he stared at his knees, drawn up to his chest pitifully. Kyle smirked inwardly and sipped at his tea, relishing in the pleasant burn in his throat.

Fifteen minutes later, Stan walked into the kitchen, looking worse-for-wear and shaky, pale in the face and a bit stunned-looking. His hair was soaked through and water was beading down his face and wetting his clean clothes. His bright gray eyes, dulled with a myriad of negative emotions, traveled slowly over the sight of Kyle almost-contentedly sipping at his tea and his boyfriend sitting like a loyal jackal at the Pharaoh's feet; Dignified but still distinctly owned and put in place.

Wordlessly, Stan took up a spot on the floor to the redhead's right. After just a moment, the redhead saw it fit to demand, "I want an explanation of the tattoo."

"W-well," Stan mumbled, scrambling for a suitable answer, "We... You..."

Kenny piped up, pressing his lips to the side of Kyle's thigh lovingly. "You belong to us, with us. That was the point... To get you to realize we belong together."

After a pause, Stan nodded in agreement. Kyle fell into a contemplative silence.

Kyle was looking between them. Watching Kenny bite his lip and Stan's eyes shine with worry any time he moved wrong and gasped. He noted everything about them, every perfect detail and couldn't help but burst exasperatedly, "I had sex with the two most beautiful men I've ever met and I can't even remember it!"

Kenny glanced up and smirked, resting his forehead on his knees and mumbling, "I can only remember bits and pieces, but it was pretty fucking awesome."

Stan giggled brokenly and rested his head against the redhead's knee. "It really was." he agreed. Kyle paused, setting down his tea and stroking both boys' hair in contemplation. "Next time, I want to be sober."

Both boys perked up, staring up at him with twin expressions of hope. Kyle smirked a little evilly. "Not that you two are getting any for a _long_ time..."

Kenny deflated somewhat with a silly grin stuck on his lips. Stan's expression was of adoration. "Next time?"

Kyle leaned down to kiss him on the top of the head. "I expect to be properly courted this time around."

They both nodded quickly, gratitude breaking across their features like the sunrise. "O-of course!" Kenny stammered.

"And~!" Kyle sing-songed, "You owe me so bad you just don't know, so until further notice, you are slave to my every whim."

Kenny face-palmed. Stan paled. Kyle threw his head back and laughed a full-on evil maniacal laugh.

_"Muahahahahahaha!"_

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